


Hero

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: 5x15 reaction fic, Assault, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5x15 reaction fic.  <br/>Kurt supposed that he should find it reassuring, that the man he was going to marry knew him so well, and for the most part, he did.  But there was more to it than that.  Blaine knew exactly how he felt because he had been there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for discussion of homophobia, assault, gay bashing.

Kurt had been home from the hospital for almost a week now, and although he was still a little stiff and sore, he was starting to feel fairly normal again. Normal enough to have had quite enough of how everyone was treating him. Rachel and Mercedes continued to give him weird looks, as if he were some kind of martyr. Sam was still harping on trying to find out who did it, so he could avenge Kurt, shooting Kurt protective looks as he stomped around the loft. Artie didn't say much, but Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that he was gathering material to write a screenplay about the attack. The only person he really felt like himself with these days was Blaine.

Kurt supposed that he should find it reassuring, that the man he was going to marry knew him so well, and for the most part, he did. But there was more to it than that. Blaine knew exactly how he felt because he had been there. Blaine had been bashed too. The term meant such a different thing to Kurt now that he had felt a brick physically slam against his skull, had collapsed from the force of fists crashing into his body. Dumpster tosses and name calling were one thing, but lying on the ground, beaten and bloody, wondering if the next swing from a hate filled homophobe was going to be the last thing you ever saw, well, that was an experience he and his fiancé now shared. 

When they had heard about Russ, Kurt had been appalled. They all had. How could this still be happening, their friends had wondered at dinner, Blaine calmly explaining the political aspect of how increasing rights and visibility for LGBT people could create a backlash. Everyone nodded, but they didn't see how even saying "we can marry" was a statement of both confidence and vulnerability, because inherent in the assertion of the right to marry was an acknowledgement that for most gay couples, in most states, marriage was a privilege denied to them, because they - we - are different. We are other. Their friends tried to understand, but at some level it just wasn't possible. While everyone had their own burdens and challenges, their friends were a lot less likely to be randomly beaten to death for their variations of otherness, at least in this time, in this city.

And while Kurt had been appalled to hear about Russ, he hadn't exactly been surprised, nor had Blaine. They were both well aware that New York City wasn't a paradise, even if Kurt was happy to let his father believe it. Yes, it was much easier to be out here, and there were far more tolerant people here than in Lima, but there were plenty of intolerant people here too. And violence in all its forms was always a danger; it was a city, after all.

So when they heard about Russ, Kurt hadn't even really talked to Blaine about it. They exchanged glances, but reserved their words for their friends, who needed explanation and reassurance. That night in bed, they held each other close, Kurt gently stroking Blaine's back, forever grateful that the three boys who attacked Blaine hadn't killed him, had through ineptitude or lack of murderous intent allowed him to survive to reach this day, to be here with Kurt. But Kurt hadn't said anything, believing as he so often did that Blaine would just know how he felt.

When Kurt woke up in the hospital, Blaine carefully curled up next to him, his first thought was that they were awfully lucky that the hateful people in this world seemed to be rather ineffective. Despite all their efforts, he and Blaine were still here. So far, at least, they hadn't destroyed them, although his teenage declaration that "they can't touch what we have" now seemed a little naïve, since they **had** been touched by the hatred. It affected them, for better and for worse. It had shaped them both. As kids, as soon as people realized they were different, and began to say things that no one, let alone a kid, deserved to hear, the hatred began to take its toll. And it continued to affect them as they grew up, and realized the breadth and depth of the prejudice around them. They could let it bring them down, or they could, as they had so far, let it strengthen their resolve, but it still touched them.

When Kurt woke up in the hospital Blaine had realized almost immediately that Kurt was awake, but he hardly moved, just breathed out "hey sweetie," like it was any other morning. Kurt had relaxed into him, soaking up his warmth and his scent, letting Blaine’s calm breathing soothe him.

When he had regained some sense of balance, Kurt had broken the silence. "I don't like hospitals."

"Me neither." Blaine had rubbed a thumb back and forth where his hand rested on Kurt's shoulder.

"When you got beat up, how long were you in the hospital?" Kurt knew Blaine had been hurt pretty badly, but they had never really discussed the details. 

"About two weeks. I had broken ribs. And some other stuff. But don't worry, the doctor said you'll be out in a day or two."

Some other stuff. Clearly nothing very serious, just enough to keep him in the hospital for weeks. Classic Blaine understatement. "I wish I had been there for you then,” Kurt had told him. “To hold you when you woke up."

Kurt had felt Blaine smile against his cheek. "If I had woken up with you in my bed my fourteen year old self would have been convinced I had died and gone to heaven."

"But you were all alone."

"I had my parents, and Cooper came to visit, too."

"But that's not the same," Kurt had insisted. "They couldn't understand."

"No, you're right," Blaine had agreed. There wasn’t much point in arguing about it.

Blaine stayed with him until he was discharged. They didn't discuss it; Kurt didn't insist that Blaine go to class, and Blaine didn't beg Kurt to let him stay. Blaine just did, even when Burt showed up and gave him the "it's fine, kid, I can take it from here," speech. Blaine left his room for a little while, so his dad could have some time alone with him, but soon Blaine returned, taking up his spot next to Kurt on the bed, ignoring Burt's side eye. At one point Kurt giggled, interrupting Blaine's quiet perusal of a magazine.

"What's so funny?" Blaine turned to look at Kurt, his lovely shoulders tugging at the casual striped shirt Sam had brought over for him that morning, his eyes wide and shining, ready to be let in on the joke. 

"At least if I have to get beat up for loving you, I get to have you, too," Kurt said softly, squeezing Blaine's hand where it lay entwined with his own.

"I hope I'm worth it," Blaine said lightly.

"You know you are," Kurt assured him, bringing their hands up to place a soft kiss on the palm of Blaine's hand.

Kurt knew that Blaine was angry, too. He could see it in his controlled, careful movements, and the tightness around his mouth. The first night back in the loft they had held each other close and cried, whispering words of love and fear, “I can’t lose you,” and “don’t ever leave me.” Blaine shook as he told Kurt about getting the phone call, and the surreal trip to the hospital, the not knowing being harder than anything he ever had gone through before. Kurt stroked him and told him how sorry he was that he knew how it felt now, recalling a car ride to Lima Memorial, Blaine moaning and trembling as he clutched his eye, then whisked away by doctors who had no intention of including Kurt in the proceedings.

Back at home, Blaine continued to be a quiet, calm presence at his side, his usual bubbly energy forged into something more determinedly solid, something Kurt could draw strength from. Because Blaine could tell that was what Kurt needed, that his normally unbreakable façade was just a tiny bit cracked, even if he would never let it show. Even if the rest of his friends thought he was a hero. What they didn't understand was that if Kurt was a hero, Blaine was too, and so was every other boy who dared to take another boy to his school prom (and every girl who took a girl), every person who stepped in front of a projectile aimed at his friend, and everyone who rose to defend a person being attacked, in a school hallway in Lima or in an alleyway in New York City. Kurt didn't delude himself into thinking that their battle was over. But he knew for certain, now, how he would fight it, and that he and Blaine would fight it together.


End file.
